Darkened by light the leaves breathe... These Wet silhouettes— Green and photosynthetic, still But they wait for the night They prefer to be indistinct— Inconspicuous and secure in the unlit
Author: Kannan Baskar
To duck and weave
Ah! a vicious, artless short ballI duck under it, at times weave awayI let it go, but I watch it all the way— A desperate bowler's hurled aggravation, limps into the keeper’s hand. All the aggression as harmless as the needless drama Proving a point is not my burdenBut surviving and scoring is. To duck…
When Shadows speak
Stains they are aplentyAiry dark patchesLoom and zoom in at randomCrowding the lit, awkwardly Yet, they equip our brightness Light is not light—without its dark cousinShadows tell light’s secrets—the code in all the glamourLight and Shadow a rhythm like no otherKannan
Another August!
Another August comes by Monsoon pellets dirty green lagoons, Thatched roofs leak, Rainwater plops on hot, reddish-brown Kattan Chaya An organic excess invades the secluded south Goan beaches The horizon is hardly distinct— the sun sets and rises from a mistiness August brings about green, profuse beginnings, Like the rains A month for new roles,…
Bunch of squares
Squares, they are floating Always in a cozy, crowded group Drifting without a point In a circular sea They’ve no depth, they’re just pieces Bits of flatness Senseless fragments— Their absorptive apparatus, wrecked beyond repair; They yell and bray out shallow nothings, In the language of the visually deaf Kites float in Adorn the air…
Sa Pa’s monotony
I stand in a sea of light Orange ripples lustre my fluid ground A red beckons— Pure in hue, pregnant with promise My raga floats away—that untold form Drifts gleefully unto the grainy beach— Away from my ruddy dream I am still standing— A porous pile robbed off its juice, Sans shape, sans curve, sans frills,…
A Summer afternoon…
That careless summer afternoon... Distant, as it may be, Still, fresh and earthy—hastily peeled Mango skin; Heavy, and clamorous—mostly—like the untimely Monsoon; Slender and fleeting—at times—as the Vaigai; Ever a part of me; It crushes me into a bloody rubble, often, But I, always, resurrect! My soul, pledged to this ceaseless vision, Perpetually in service…
Fragile souls…
Fragile souls, float about, dancing gingerly to a long lost tune.
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